Truth
by darkcyan
Summary: Some days Natori sees being asexual – being aromantic – as an identity, a fundamental part of who he is. Some days he sees it as an excuse, and wonders if he can even tell when he's lying to himself anymore. Usually he figures the truth is probably somewhere in between.


For Asexual Awareness Week 2014. (And Happy Halloween!)

**Spoilers**: One blink-and-you'll-miss-it reference to Volume 18. Otherwise, nothing in particular.

# # # Truth # # #

Natori Shuuichi toes off his shoes in the too-dim entrance hall, shakes his head slightly as Hiiragi reaches to take his coat, and gifts Sumi-_san_ with a brilliant smile as he hands it to her instead.

She alone in this house has never treated him differently for his talents, but he still prefers to avoid rubbing her nose in them.

"It is good to see you again, Shuuichi-_san_," she says with a small smile of her own. "It's such a pity you can't make it by more often."

He suspects she's the only one who feels that way, but appreciates the sentiment. "Well, you know, the life of an actor is terribly busy ..."

"Oh! I saw your new movie –"

The smile on his face shades into fond, almost as sincere as it ever gets, as he follows her down the hall and listens to her enthusiastically share her opinions of his recent activities.

Her words slow as they approach the dining room; she's never been as unaware of the Natori family dynamic as she often prefers to pretend. Growing up, Shuuichi resented her fiercely for that pretense, but these days he's back so infrequently, and for such a short period of time that it seems a waste to spend the entire visit angry.

He slips past her with a last fond smile, and nods to his father and grandfather – already there, of course – as he enters.

His father looks past him, only the quick flick of his eyes confirming he'd seen him, and his grandfather huffs. "You're late."

"I apologize." Shuuichi says smoothly, though he doesn't spend much effort on sounding sincere. "I had a bit of trouble acquiring a taxi in a timely fashion. I do hope you weren't waiting long?" He takes a seat in the nearest chair, three places down from where his grandfather sits at the head of the table, and at a diagonal from where his father sits to his grandfather's immediate right.

"Sumi-_san_? If you would." His grandfather requests, ignoring Shuuichi's response.

"Of course." The door slides quietly shut behind her. She'll be back soon with food; for the time being, Shuuichi folds his hands and patiently waits. He's sat through far more awkward silences than this before.

First on the periphery, then slowly crossing his field of vision, he can see Hiiragi wandering around, examining the room. He had forgotten that this is the first time he's been home since she became his _shiki_. He wonders if it's all very new to her, or if it reminds her of a previous master. Certainly, aside from the addition of the large Western table they sat at, made of some dark wood stained even darker, this room has probably not changed appreciably for decades, and shares many similarities with most other large, traditional Japanese houses he's seen.

Dinner arrives to still-strained silence. Slowly, it unbends into a handful of halfhearted attempts at small talk, though it is as clear as always that neither of them respects his acting – which they are at least willing to ask polite questions about – any more than his work as an exorcist – which as always, they pointedly ignore.

Shuuichi greets dessert with the first real smile all meal, both because it's one of his favorites and because it means he'll finally have an excuse to leave soon.

"You couldn't use larger bowls?" He asks Sumi-_san_ plaintively as he raises his first spoonful of green tea ice cream to his lips. "I'm a growing boy."

She looks startled for a moment. He supposes he never has been one to make jokes in this house, but she recovers well enough and just laughs at him. "Too much dessert is bad for you. Besides, you wouldn't want to lose your figure, would you?"

"It would indeed be a great loss." Shuuichi agrees solemnly, though in truth he's never paid much attention to it. Running for his life on a semi-regular basis had proven to be an excellent exercise regimen thus far.

The door slides shut, he turns back to his bowl, and his grandfather clears his throat. Clears it again, when Shuuichi doesn't outwardly react the first time, and with an inward sigh he sets his spoon down and looks towards the head of the table. "Yes?"

"Don't you think it's about time you settled down?" His grandfather asks.

Shuuichi blinks, honestly confused by the question. "I am." He has two jobs he enjoys, neither the steadiest, but together good enough to cover the cost of a decent-sized apartment with a tolerable landlord, He even, bizarrely, has a friend.

(The rest he had planned for, worked towards. Natsume had been a surprise, one he often still doesn't quite know what to do with. It is only paltry comfort that he sometimes gets the feeling that Natsume doesn't quite know what to do with him, either.)

His grandfather makes a dismissive gesture. "I know all this excitement seems like a good idea to you right now – I was a young man once, too. But it's important that you consider your responsibilities to your clan. You are the sole heir, and we have an image to consider. You will need to stop running about at some point."

Shuuichi stares, but whatever is going on in his grandfather's head, his face provides no clue. "Why?" he asks, honestly curious. _You've never cared about the family image before that I could tell,_ he thinks, but doesn't say, and _You've never seemed to care much about my status as heir, either_.

Now his grandfather looks strangely uncomfortable, and clears his throat again. "Any future heir to the clan must be legitimate."

Shuuichi stares for several seconds longer before comprehension finally dawns, and he is torn between burying his face in his hands and standing up and walking out. He compromises and pinches the bridge of his nose, missing, for a moment, the familiar weight of his glasses. "Grandfather," he says, voice strained, "I don't know what sort of terrible rag you've been reading, but even the people who _write_ that sort of article don't take it seriously. There is _no_ little Natori on the way, I promise you."

He makes a mental note to talk to Chiyo on Tuesday. Unless his family has suddenly started taking an entirely uncharacteristic interest in his life, the rumors about the two of them must be far further out of control than he had thought. Not impossible; if he tried to keep track of every ridiculous story about romantic entanglements between himself and his costars, he'd never have had time for either of his real jobs.

"Accidents can happen, you know, no matter how careful you are," his father says.

Shuuichi waits awkwardly long to reply because he had honestly expected him to take the opportunity to say that he had been one of them, then says, "Not if there has never been any opportunity." Pauses, and adds with special care for the words, "I am an aromantic asexual." He uses the English partly to annoy his family, but mostly because he's never cared enough to look up the proper way to say it in Japanese. "That means I'm not interested."

"Is that one of those … exorcist things?" his grandfather asks.

Shuuichi just barely avoids laughing, but can't quite keep himself from replying, "I don't think any of us would be sitting here right now if that was true."

If there's one thing his family likes even less than being reminded that he's an exorcist, it's being reminded that their family used to be full of them, but Shuuichi is well past caring about politeness. Not in this conversation.

"Hm, well, you probably just haven't met the right girl yet," his father says dismissively. "No great surprise, given the sort of people you usually associate yourself with."

Shuuichi finds himself on his feet with no memory of standing. He opens his mouth, but closes it when he realizes he has no idea what he'd say. The slight hurts, though it really shouldn't – he really should be used to it by now – and he just. He can't do this right now.

He turns and leaves, carefully not slamming the door behind himself, and is glad that he doesn't see Sumi-_san_ on the way back to the entrance hall. While he never regrets a word he's said to his family, he _would_ feel guilty if he upset her.

Hiiragi settles into place beside him as he shuts the front gate behind himself, and he takes a deep breath of the cool evening air, trying to settle his temper. Dinner with his family has never been a precisely comfortable thing, but it's been years since he's stalked out in a huff.

He tries to turn his attention away from remembering the conversation, because he knows from experience that that will only make him angrier. Luckily, Hiiragi provides him with an effective distraction. "That term … it was from that television show you kept re-watching several months ago, isn't it?"

He nods. He'd stumbled across the interview by complete accident, channel-surfing English-language shows in hopes of finding some examples he could use to polish his pronunciation for a part he'd recently acquired – a young bilingual detective. The subject matter had so distracted him that it wasn't until the third time he watched it that he finally had a clear enough grasp of the content to remember that he had been planning on paying attention to their pronunciation.

He's never cared enough to seek out more information than that; has no interest in joining a community if one exists. Most days, he doesn't even think of it at all.

Hiiragi shakes her head. "Humans are strange. You come up with so many unnecessary names."

"Ahaha, perhaps you're right."

But he has to admit that it's a bit … comforting, occasionally, to have a name for something he _is_, when he's spent so much of his life defining himself in terms of what he is _not_.

#

During a break in filming, Shuuichi pulls Chiyo aside and explains the rumors to her. It had, unfortunately, taken almost no time at all to find confirmation of what his family had said; the rumors were wide enough spread and from semi-reputable enough sources that he was a bit embarrassed that he _hadn't_ noticed them before.

His co-star laughs. "If you meant that as a pick-up line, you really ought to study the characters you play a bit more closely."

Shuuichi grimaces, and says stiltedly, "I mean no offense – I have enjoyed working with you thus far, and I do hope this will not adversely affect our interactions in the future." He's beginning to regret saying anything.

She sobers, and shakes her head. "No offense taken. … Whoever ends up landing you will be a pretty lucky girl, I think."

If her voice is the slightest bit wistful, both of them politely ignore it. Shuuichi considers pointing out how unlikely an event that is, but he doubts he'll see her again after this contract ends, and honestly, the conversation is already more than awkward and revealing enough.

"It was good of your family to let you know," she continues, and Shuuichi can feel the moment his smile becomes a mask. "You must be very close."

"They have my best interests at heart." The lie drops off his lips with practiced sincerity; he occasionally even thinks that it might have been true, in another world, with a different him. "They've always been very supportive of me." In public, once it became clear that nothing else they could do would sway him from his chosen path.

"I know I'm very lucky," he concludes with a gentle smile.

For all that he is content with – and, honestly, pretty damn proud of – the life that he's built, Shuuichi can't help but wonder sometimes if that other Shuuichi would have been any happier.

He also can't help but suspect that his family would have just found other reasons to be disappointed.

#

The thing is.

The thing is, Shuuichi doesn't really _understand_ people. He doesn't know _how_ to connect to them. He told Natsume once that he'd long since thrown that sort of thing away, although saying he'd never really tried would probably be more accurate, and for the most part he doesn't regret it. Life is far simpler, he's got plenty else to keep himself occupied, and to be honest? Most of the people he encounters on a daily basis, he doubts he's missing much.

He's not kind. (No matter what Hiiragi and Natsume seem to think.)

He lies as easily as he breathes, sometimes even when he really ought to just tell the truth.

The thing is, with a few notable exceptions, Shuuichi just doesn't _like_ people. He enjoys basking in their admiration. He's an excellent observer, and well-practiced at crafting a public persona who's friendly and understanding and kind and everything that Shuuichi himself is not. But when it comes down to it … he wasn't lying, when he told Natsume he was his only male friend.

(He tries not to lie to Natsume anymore. He figures he owes his friend that much, at least.)

As for female friends – well, if Hiiragi hadn't been a _youkai_, hadn't been his _shiki_, he sometimes thought they might make have made pretty good friends. But she was both, so it seemed rather pointless to speculate.

Some days he sees being asexual – being aromantic – as an identity, a fundamental part of who he is.

Some days he sees it as an excuse – a pretty lie so he doesn't have to admit he's simply a misanthrope – and wonders if he can even tell when he's lying to himself anymore.

Usually he figures the truth is probably somewhere in between.

#

Shuuichi's back hurts from having slammed into the tall, thick tree he's currently leaning against; he can feel the first stirrings of what will probably be an impressive headache, and the gecko circles a scraped-raw patch of skin just below his elbow as though uncertain what it thinks of the change.

"Oi." Natsume's companion leaves his side long enough to come over and leap onto Shuuichi's lap, half-standing against his chest. "You still alive, brat?"

Shuuichi smiles, glittery and edged as he shoves him back off. "I'll live, unless a certain someone suffocates me first." He turns his gaze across the clearing, ignoring the scattered remnants of the circle in favor of double-checking the location of the urn they'd used for the seal – looked like everything was still in place, and Hiiragi sat nearby, making sure – and the too-still form of his young friend. "Is Natsume -?"

"He's fine." The _youkai_ rolls his eyes. "Just overexerted himself again, the idiot."

Shuuichi stands, stubborning his way through a brief bout of lightheadedness. He'd refuse to admit it if anyone asked, but Natsume might not be the only one who had overexerted himself. He briefly considers starting to clean up the mess, but when he kneels to start picking up some of the scattered paper – he sometimes regrets choosing to specialize in an area of exorcism that often required rather tedious amounts of cleanup – he almost falls back over, only reflexes and lengthy practice with post-exorcism exhaustion saving him. Hiiragi turns her head towards him so pointedly that he has to smile, inclining his head slightly to acknowledge her point.

Instead, he settles down a short distance away from Natsume. After a moment's thought, he removes his jacket and uses it to pillow the unconscious boy's head, as the cat-like _youkai _stares at him distrustfully across his body. The day is warm enough now that he doesn't need it.

His eyes idly trace the path of a dragonfly that has chosen this small clearing to fly across, and Natsume's companion tenses in a very cat-like way for a moment before settling down with a very unsubtle look at Natsume. When he notices Shuuichi watching him, he immediately turns away and starts pointedly ignoring him, and Shuuichi gives in to the urge to smile.

"Natsume is doing well?" he asks quietly, when the silence has drawn out yet further and the cat-like _youkai _is no longer quite so pointedly ignoring him. "Not getting himself into too much trouble?" He realizes that's perhaps not the best question to ask after what they'd just been through, as Natsume's companion shoots him an incredulous stare.

It seems so long ago, that hot springs trip when he'd offered Natsume a place in his home if he ever needed one. He meant it then, still means it now, but he has to admit he's glad Natsume has never needed or wanted to take him up on it. For all the roles he's played, all the observing he's done, every meeting with Natsume provides a pointed reminder that of everything he doesn't know. He can't imagine how badly he'd screw up actually being _responsible_ for him.

And the apartment – it's not huge, he's never taken the time or energy to decorate it with much, but it's _his_. Sharing it with someone else – being around someone else _all the time_, even Natsume – he wonders if he'd be able to stand it.

So it's just as well that Natsume has never needed him to.

"The brat is always sticking his nose in places it doesn't belong," Natsume's companion grouses. Shuuichi is not naïve enough to think that he's trusted, but he likes to think that the _youkai _would be willing to tell him if something was desperately wrong on the human side of things.

As for the _youkai _side of things … "I suppose it's a good thing he's got you to drag him back out, then," Shuuichi says lightly.

"Hmph." The cat-like _youkai _pointedly turns away again.

Shuuichi has just spotted another dragonfly several minutes later when Natsume finally stirs; he turns just in time to see Natsume's eyes blink open. "Natori-_san_? Is –?"

"The seal is solid, Hiiragi and I are fine." Shuuichi says. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine." Natsume says, but he only sits halfway up before clearly thinking better of it and laying back down. "I'm sorry, I always seem to be dragging you into my trouble these days."

"Ahaha, we agreed we would help each other, did we not?" He smiles at the unsatisfied look on Natsume's face. "Besides, it's not like I'm going home empty-handed." The _youkai_ they'd captured had been wreaking havoc nearby; he hadn't seen an exorcism request himself yet, but chances were that either he'd poached someone else's job again, or a request would have turned up soon. He could turn this to his advantage. He always did.

Natsume smiles back, small and quiet but there, and closes his eyes again.

There are far worse ways to spend an afternoon, Shuuichi thinks, than in sitting beside a friend, idly watching the world drift by.

#

The thing is, some days, the line between identity and excuse is so thin, even Shuuichi himself can't tell where it lies.

Some days he wonders if his father really _is_ right, that his only problem is that he hasn't found the right person yet.

(He wonders, though. If that was truly the case, shouldn't he be interested in looking? Shouldn't he feel some sort of lack?)

(He wonders, too: what if his very lack of interest is just another lie he tells himself?)

(Then he reminds himself that it's been a very long time since he's believed his father was right about anything, and shelves the subject.)

Some days, he ties himself into knots, unable to distinguish between truth, the expectations society places on him, and the lies he has become so adept at telling himself. He wants answers that are static, that are easy, that make sense, but they rarely ever do.

But most days, he is just himself, and that is enough.


End file.
